𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐘. [ 𝐋𝐁. ] :currently editing!

| "NO TRUER TWO!"

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| PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA,
by  BEYONCÉ!

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madison and lamelo's fingers stay loosely interlocked as she smoothly comes up and down on his length while rihanna's eighth album serves as the soundtrack to the longtime couple officially consummating their marriage in a half full standalone bathtub.

as they count down to their synced climax, they both throw their heads back in preeminent ravishment. but madison wastes no time getting out and grabbing his hand.

"what's the rush, maddie?"

"we got a full day ahead of us, you forget?"

he smacks his lips, "so that's why you woke me
up so early? you ain't even a morning person!"

"this ring you got me was a power up. you should get me a new pair of earrings and see what happens," they laugh as they wrap towels around themselves.

— LATER...

"yeah, i had to go to this city or something called italy for my uncle's thing. i'll be back home in a week though," zoey wanders around, talking to her friend from home using her father's phone.

"can i borrow your flat iron real quick? thanks, girl!" carmen peeks into ally's open bathroom door, taking the tool she needed to maintain her hair.

"i'm telling you, ace, you not finna want what we eating so it's pancakes or cereal," miles folds his arms, trying to figure out what to feed his choosy son.

"aye, help me plug this fucking playstation in, don't just watch me struggle! ow!" liangelo winces at his father slapping him upside his head, carrying a tired laney on his opposite side.

they all look at the door when the doorbell rings.

"that might be my doordash! someone go get that for me!" liangelo shouts, voice muffled as he holds a cord between his lips as he tried to figure out the european outlets in the way.

"what 'typa nigga doordash in italy? how you do that shit?"

"look at the pictures, duh," liangelo cuts his eyes at his brother.